Weightless

25) Aftermath

(1 day later) 1st of July 2018

Mollie leaves the next day. Ethan has to work it out on his own because Cal is too devastated to tell him.

The loss of her is obvious. The missing possessions, her coat gone from the rack and lack of her flowery perfume lingering about the house is evidence that she's taken herself away, leaving no trace that she was ever there. She's even taken the vanilla that she used to put behind her ears to make her smell nice. She's taken the lot.

As the sun rises, he looks over every room, longing to find evidence of her existence. The most he finds is a comb with her hair between the teeth. She had lovely hair. It was long and feathery.

He holds it in his hands. He can't stop thinking about this. Whatever contributed into her decision to break-up with Cal, she'd left them both in the process. It was done with immediate effect, too, like she'd been considering it for a while. There was no deciding or pondering left to be done, only actions to be made. Saying that, Mollie isn't - and never was - a good planner. Maybe it was a spur of the moment decision. She might be regretting it right this moment.

If she is, she doesn't call.

Ethan finds a note dedicated to him that afternoon - the only thing she'd left, crumpled on the table - when he gets up to make Cal a cup of tea. It's just for him, from Mollie - there's not one for Cal. It's obvious she wanted to spare him the pain of finding another written farewell.

This isn't anyone's fault. I have reasons for leaving that I can't tell you. Reasons that I can't quite come to terms with yet. I need to clear my head. Take care, okay? If you need me I'm still here. I'll be back one day.

It raises more questions than it answers, but as he's thinking detachedly over it, the kettle grumbles in signal that it's done.

One tea. He's not even sure why he's making one. Maybe he feels sympathetic for Cal. Maybe he's trying to keep himself busy. Mollie's loss feels big. It doesn't feel like going back to last year - it feels entirely wrong but he doesn't allow himself any time to accustom to it.

Nothing is going right. Even more so when he's involved. Mollie is gone. Cal hates him.

It's all your fault.

Without thinking straight, Ethan picks up the teaspoon - it's boiling from standing in the drink - and presses it into his palm.

It's so hot that it feels sharp. Like needles pricking him. He hisses. There's relief when it hurts, and additional relief when the pain fades away. No mark is left. No trace. He does it a couple more times. Red ovals are left.

It's been days since he's hurt himself. The streak is broken now; but his skin isn't, so perhaps it doesn't count. Maybe. It's not like it matters anyway. Ethan drops the spoon and wishes the water was still hot enough for it to burn just enough.

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Ethan had expected Cal to be angry at him, but he wasn't. He'd expected himself to be angry at Cal too, but he wasn't either. Yesterday is a minor blip, evidently.

When he comes in shyly, Cal says thank you for the cup of tea. He pats his bed to invite Ethan to sit on it. Cal is still in yesterday's' clothes, his face looking blotchy, but he keeps on doing these lopsided fake smiles which Ethan can see the sadness behind.

"Are you okay?"

Ethan nods, untrusting himself to speak. He doesn't think he's going to cry, but with Cal being so nice when he surely doesn't deserve that, he can't be too sure. He looks at Cal, trying to ask him if he's okay but he just can't find the words.